


Hold Fast Handfast

by iArgent



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: All mistakes are mine, Also wrote this in one go and posted it, Battle Couple, Blue Lions Route, Felix bein soft, Handfasting, I'm so sorry, Like it happens, M/M, Male My Unit | Byleth, Multi, Non-Graphic Smut, Other, Some light descriptions of violence and blood, Sylvain being cute af, Wedding, anyway, but it's a paragraph, but it's not.....a lot, full recruitment, no beta we die like Glenn, self indulgent, sorry about this, weird past/present tense switch
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-12
Updated: 2020-02-12
Packaged: 2021-02-28 00:21:55
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,470
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22674760
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/iArgent/pseuds/iArgent
Summary: Sylvain and Felix get married, over and over again to affirm their vow in wartime until they can make them permanent in peace.  They have a lot of very fun friends.
Relationships: Dimitri Alexandre Blaiddyd/My Unit | Byleth/Claude von Riegan, Felix Hugo Fraldarius/Sylvain Jose Gautier
Comments: 10
Kudos: 91





	Hold Fast Handfast

**Author's Note:**

> Eyyyy
> 
> Not my best work! But the idea wouldn't leave.
> 
> I had to spend some time looking up handfasting cord colors, and anybody at all familiar with the ritual/ceremony knows this isn't exactly how it goes. At all. But I figured I could take some liberties as it's Fire Emblem and they're at war.
> 
> You can use ribbons! I figured they'd fit better under armor than full cords. And you do not usually use one ribbon, and cut it, I just liked the imagery. 
> 
> Anyway I'm a witch realizing I could have just invented a new thing as I write this note after writing 5k words of Handfasting Lite. 
> 
> Also, Felix and Sylvain DO actually keep each one, and they're displayed in a glass case after the end of this fic. So there's one bit I kept. 
> 
> Please love me

“We’ll always be together. Right, Felix?”

The dark haired swordsman looked up from his sword, cloth stilling. The night wasn’t quiet, soldiers walked past the tent, the fire was still going. If Felix focused he could hear the spitting of the fat from a skewer dribbling into said fire. “That’s what you tell me.” He answered instead, shaking his head as if he could remove the muzzy fondness with a sharp movement.

“So.” Sylvain said, rocking back on his heels, arms behind his head, standing like an idiot in the tent instead of crawling onto the cot or a chair. They were high ranking officials, as superfluous as it was, Felix found his tent came with furniture now. “You’re going to marry me, right?”

The cloth stilled again, Felix letting out a soft breath. “Yes, Sylvain, I’m going to marry you.” Then he continued, the blade nearly cleaned and polished to glowing. It would make tomorrow…easier. And tomorrow night, easier to clean. Despite Sylvain’s confusing, yet affectionate words, Felix couldn’t just dismiss the next battle. Even at his most relaxed, there was a shaking at his core that was both horrified and exhilarated, and he could tell tonight would be near sleepless.

“Will you do something with me then?” Sylvain asked, smile half gone as it was when he was being sweet but also being serious. “I want you to practise something with me tonight, so we can do it tomorrow before battle.”

Felix looked up, eyebrows creeping toward his hairline. “What are you planning?”

Sylvain produced a long strip of white ribbon and Felix blanched. “Hey, don’t look at me like that! It’s not what you’re thinking!”

“It had best not be.” Felix grumbled “I need to be able to run and move my shoulders tomorrow, you get to sit on a horse.”

“Which is why this isn’t a sex thing!” Sylvain wheedled. “I mean, it could be, but this isn’t…I don’t want it to be that right now.”

Eyes narrowed, Felix sighed and placed his blade aside, delicately sheathed as if it would break at his touch, instead of breaking anything it did. Felix shivered despite the night not being cold, and his tent pleasant even in just his shirtsleeves. The Boar may be mad but Felix regretfully understood his continued horror on nights like these. “Okay.” He said, swallowing past the lump in his throat, the curdled stress and passing terror to focus on Sylvain. Sylvain who made him feel heavy and light and warm and safe and challenged. Sylvain who he loved even if he couldn’t always say the words, instead telling him with barbed comments that still made Sylvain smile because he knew him. “What are we doing?”

Sylvain slung the ribbon over his shoulder with some difficulty. Long silk ribbons were not meant to be slung, after all, and reached for Felix’s right arm, pulling his hand up to brush a kiss over his knuckles and then lowering it, stepping back so both of their arms were extended, but connected by their hands. Sylvain tugged the ribbon down and carefully began to loop it around their extended arms. “Think we can tie ourselves together with one hand each?”

“Why would we do that?”

“Just trust me.”

Felix didn’t like backing down, and Sylvain liked to see his fancies through. It took nearly an hour, and deciding each needed to use both hands to tie a soft band around the others forearm with one side before they began weaving. Tie to tight, tie to loose, the fire outside was only for the watch by the time Sylvain decreed they’d gotten it right. Hands tied firmly together, arms useless as Felix stared at Sylvain blandly, both sitting on the floor. “Okay. You’re right, not what I expected at all.”

Sylvain fumbled at his belt for a dagger.

“Uh.”

“Normally, we wouldn’t cut this, but…we’ve never been normal, have we Fe?”

“Normal is the farthest word from this situation. Sylvain what are we doing right now?”

The redhead smiled, little and a tiny bit sheepish, and Felix knew that smile, it was the ‘I’ve done something unspeakably cute and you can’t react without proving you’re head over heels in the most disgusting way’ smile. Felix’s favorite, not that he’d admit it. “It’s ah…A Handfasting, y’know? With some…alterations.”

Felix moved to support his arm with his knee and sighed. “Okay, so just a run of the mill spontaneous marriage.” He said dryly. “Sounds like you.”

“Hey, this was just practice. I’ve got better ones for tomorrow.”

“After the battle?”

“Before.”

“ _What_?”

* * *

Sylvain kissed Felix’s bound hand that night multiple times. Delicate brushes of soft lips against Felix’s fingertips. Felix’s own fingertips hesitant pressure as he stroked over Sylvain’s wrist. Eventually, carefully cutting the crossing ribbon, their hands separated into two bound arms with dangling ribbon, hard won knots crossing over hands and ridges, open gaps like one of Hilda’s fashion gloves. Sylvain offered to cut those off too. Or tug at some of the bumpy knots where they’d wound ribbon with no end into itself to create the crisscrossing fashion statement. Felix busied himself with slowly working his off instead, holding the contraption later and seeing the careful bunching of silk that had wound around his wrist, forearm, and fingers.

While Sylvain slept, Felix traced his hand over the knotting. He’d never get it back on, but in a way, this was his wedding ring. And if he was feeling sentimental, if his eyes were wet holding something a priestess might wear as a fashion statement, well, Sylvain wasn’t awake to notice. So Felix had time. Then he rolled it up, and hid the first ribbon in his bag, tucked into a shirt not yet ruined by blood.

* * *

The morning came too fast and too slow. Felix had slept, burrowed tightly into Sylvain’s chest. But it felt like he woke every five minutes, anxious for the horn. Anxious to march, so excited and scared he shivered the night through.

When the horn blew, Sylvain had tightened his grip, pulled Felix impossibly closer as he stretched, then released him to dress with the frenetic energy that generated static all through the tent.

“Ah, don’t…put your gloves on yet.”

Sylvain didn’t either. He withdrew a painfully soft looking light blue ribbon and another, silky dark blue from his bag after he had mostly dressed.

“Why this color?” Felix asked, instead of blushing and looking away like a flustered noblewoman, like he felt like doing.

“I asked Petra, these two together are supposed to be…Trust, truth, and honoring your vows.” Sylvain hesitated. “I’d like, if after this, you helped me pick colors for next time.”

Next time.

Goddess bless.

“You…want to do this a lot?” Felix said, hiding the harsh swallow in his words at the sheer romantic ridiculousness that he sudden;y felt starved for.

“I’m fighting for Dimitri.” Sylvain said, moving on quickly before Felix’s expression could shutter “But I want to swear myself to you before each battle.”

Felix blinked. Swallowing tightly as his throat clenched with emotion he didn’t want to express. He offered his arm instead. “It’s got to be easier now, we’ve practiced.”

Their fingers were still a little clumsy as they tied their arms together, doubtlessly more suited to activity than the proper ceremony, more pretty than binding, but just as symbolic. Sylvain knew Hilda and Dorothea would ask about the latticework abstract glove they each wore if they saw it. It was growing on Sylvain too.

“Now…Vows.” Sylvain muttered as Felix’s startled face jerked away from the ribbon to look, aghast, at him. “They don’t need to be big. Just.” Sylvain cleared his throat. “I love you, Fe.” He murmured. “I’m going to come back to you at the end of this battle, I promise.”

Felix nodded, mouth opening and closing a few times, before he sighed. But when he spoke, his voice was gentle. “I’ll come back to you as well. But even if…we don’t. We made a promise, there’s nowhere you can go that I won’t follow.”

“Living together, until we die together. Dark promises for kids. Usually I’d say no binding suicide pacts until you’re at least…Hmm, twenty.”

“We are twenty, you fool. Above twenty.”

Sylvain kissed him, slowly, softly, in a way that had Felix making a little noise in the back of his throat. “Well then I guess you know, if you don’t come back, I’ll find you, wherever you are.”

Felix fumbled for his sword. “We’re going to live though. You’ve yet to make an honest man of me. I expect to tie these in Fhirdiad, in front of our friends.” His cheeks were blazing, he could feel them. But Sylvain lit up like a candle, his ‘Really?! Fe!’ warped by the soft snapping of the ribbon as Felix’s blade delicately left them each with their own lattice, the cut strips flowing almost purposefully, even as they covered them with armor.

“I’ll take that off for you. Tonight, after the battle.” Sylvain suddenly offered.

“Then I’ll remove yours.” Felix responded. “Heh, why don’t we just promise to remove each others, if you’re so romantic.”

“Excellent idea!” Sylvain chirped, grabbing his lance. “I knew you were a romantic somewhere in there, Felix.”

He walked away determinedly as Felix shouted “I was teasing you!” at his armored back. Felix should know better than to tease, Sylvain took it as a challenge.

* * *

The battle was brutal, and their line was broken quickly, resulting in Felix, Caspar, Dorothea and Petra being run up a hill and fired on for a good hour, as Dorothea, crouched for cover behind Felix and Petra, who tried to make use of Caspar’s massive armor. Felix firing spells where he could, Dorothea altering between hurling fire and healing. Petra swapping to her bow to aid and Caspar….not dying as he functioned as their own walking fortress.

“Guys this is, _terrible_? Like wow?”

“Why aren’t you wearing a _helmet_?” Dorothea groused, shoving both hands into his armored back and pulsing another Heal, which made his armor glow for a moment.

“It didn’t come with a helmet, Thea!”

“You are having recklessness.” Petra panted, stringing another arrow and shooting down a Falcon Knight with a practiced, if exasperated hand. “A helmet should be worn!”

Felix bolted forward to cross blades with another Imperial soldier when they advanced.

“Hey, rag on Felix, he’s wearing no helmet and like, six pounds of armor.” Caspar whiled, holding up his shield and lunging forward with his axe a moment later.

“Felix is being fast, like a bird.” Petra groused 

“Oooh, singing like a bird, rustling your little wings under Sylvain’s gentle touch?” Dorothea cooed, face splitting into a downright evil smile as she fired a Thoron at a Wyvern Rider.

“Please-” A pause to slash at another enemy, blood hot and wet and fragrant splattering his face “Don’t mention my sex life as we’re killing people. In fact, don’t talk.” Felix panted.

“It’s this, or start bawling.” Dorothea snarled, swapping to her sword and joining him as they drove back an armored knight.

“Guys! Maybe let me handle the ones with a battleaxe you seriously have no armor-” Caspar yelled in exasperation as they pressed back down the hill. Dorothea snaking an arm out to touch Petra with a Heal as an arrow pierced her shoulder. 

“Focus in battle is being very important!” Petra cried, drawing her bowstring tight and shooting a wyvern out of the sky. “But so is having a light heart.” She said carefully “We will be saddened later, but now we must be fierce! Be telling jokes if that is what you are needing!”

“She’s an absolute Queen.” Dorothea sighed, shoulder to shoulder with Felix as Ingrid’s pegasus came into view heralding reinforcements to relieve them. “Just. I’ll die for her.”

“Don’t die yet.” Felix groused, sprinting forward to shear through a soldiers breastplate and dancing back to avoid his friends lance. Dorothea slipping under his guard to skewer the lancers chest as his arm raised.

“I’m sorry!” Came a shriek from the side, and ice erupted around a mounted unit, Marianne and Bernadetta skittering around the horse and rider to join the small party.

Marianne was winded, but reached out eagerly “Do you need healing?”

* * *

Sylvain’s armor was dented, and Felix had a cut on his cheek, too minor for healing magic, when they met up at the end. The battle theirs, and their friends alive. Sylvain kissed him like he wanted to climb into his body and rest in his lungs.

And that night they moved together frantically, latticework ribbons on their arms pressed together and they grabbed and held tightly with their bare ones, sighing vows they couldn’t put words too. At the end, bare and trembling at last with something that wasn’t excitement or terror, but more satisfied exhaustion, they carefully worked the knotting over each others arms, rolling up the finished works and stowing them carefully away.

* * *

Ribbons were not a hot commodity, it was hard to find long ones, and they were fighting a war. So walking through the halls of Garreg Mach with a small bag of random colored ribbons was a sort of success, Felix thought. He wasn’t sure what any of them meant, but unlike flowers, he was pretty sure ‘I actually hate you’ colors didn’t exist for this. Give the man a yellow rose _one time_ trying to be romantic and you’re stuck with the language of flowers books and tutoring from Ferdinand, honestly.

“Oooh, whatcha got there, Felix?” Annette asked, stepping out of a room with a dusty tome in hand. “It doesn’t look like weaponry! Are you growing as a person?”

Felix almost bit out ‘no’ then realized he couldn’t win. “Ribbons.”

  
”Ribbons?”

“Yeah.”

“Why ribbons?”

“Because.”

“That’s fair.”

Felix found himself smiling. Annette was a good friend, and unlike others, he never felt the need for their verbal sparring to get barbed.

“Okay I know I said it was fair, but pleeeeease tell me why you have ribbons?”

Annette didn’t say anything else. Just walked alongside him, eyes wide, and occasionally humming, Which had the unfortunate side effect of Felix humming as well, Annette happily trying to make a harmony out of whenever Felix’s tune went off on its own. She knew Felix was chewing his words, thinking about how to say things was an issue of his.

“Handfasting.”

“Ohmygoddess.” Annette gasped “Those are….are marriage cords? From…From Almyra and Brigid and Dagda? Oh! The colors all mean something! What do the colors you got mean?” 

Cheeks hot, Felix sighed. “I don’t know. Sylvain got the ones last time and he knows, I think.”

“Last time?” Annette’s voice crawled to a squeak. “You got married and didn’t invite me? You’re evil!”

“We aren’t…not officially. Just-”

“Hey, sorry, don’t worry about it, okay?” Annette jumped in. “But I get to do your hair when you do get married okay? Payback.”

Felix appraised Annette’s hair. “That’s fine.”

“I’m going to get Mercie in on it, you’re going to be scary pretty.”

Felix scoffed, letting Annette tease him as they walked, soon another redhead joined him. Sylvain falling into step with them. Mercifully Annette changed topics, and Felix found himself walking between a spirited conversation on Black Magic as they walked back to the dorms.

“Oh! Let’s go by the little training room, I want to see if Dedue is there. I had a question about a flower in the Greenhouse!” Annette chirped, cutting off as Gilbert stepped out, all three of them freezing on the walkway.

“Hello. Have you seen His Majesty today?”

Annette seemed to shrink, clearly not wanting to be there, Sylvain brought one hand up to his neck, and looked over the grounds, also not wanting to be there. Felix also didn’t want to be there but apparently was now in charge of speaking. “Uh, no?”

“Ah, a shame, do you know how he is faring?”

“Oh, y’know…feral.”

The wind itself seemed to freeze. Felix felt deeply uncomfortable and now he could feel Sylvain and Annette staring at him.

“I…need to leave.”

Sylvain took several minutes to catch up and when he did, he was more out of breath from laughing than from running. In an effort to grovel effectively, Sylvain took off to the Dining Hall to collect dinner.

Felix collided with Dimitri outside of his room. Which was surprising for several reasons. The Boar rarely stayed in the dorms any longer, and also, he didn’t immediately try and butcher Felix, so today was a wash, as far as he was concerned.

One icy blue eye flickered to the bag Felix had dropped, and in a faraway tone of voice, one that sounded uncomfortably like his friend, Dimitri murmured “Yellow for charm, harmony, and balance. Odd choice.”

Felix was going to address that later but not before he brushed by the Boar and did his level best to sink into the shadows and disappear from the face of Fodlan. He could feel Yuri snickering from wherever he was on the grounds. Nothing like comparing your own attempt at vanishing to the Rat King of Garreg Mach who lived in the literal sewers.

Their next battle was bloody, and the yellow of the cord was stained beyond repair. Felix kept it anyway.

* * *

Dark blue for a safe journey, longevity, and strength. Petra had said when Sylvain asked her. Walking onto Gronder had been horrifying anyway, and Sylvain had wanted something to match that. Had wanted to fuss over Felix without doing it out loud and causing the tension to spill over into an argument. He’d had to go through Hilda to get it, in the end. The original seller didn’t have the dark blue anymore. So the strip of fabric Sylvain had tied himself to Felix with, with trembling hands they both ignored, was the finest of the Locket, and worth, arguably, a small fortune. Well, fuck you Margrave, that allowance wasn’t for wooing girls or advancing his reputation, it was for an incredibly niche message that Felix definitely wouldn’t understand, for Sylvain’s personal happiness, so again, fuck you.

Felix wore it for three days. Through Rodrigue’s hurried burial, a bath, every meal, and a full day locked in a room trying to pretend he wasn’t crying.

Sylvain wore his for three days too. Every moment worried about Felix, or worried about Dimitri, or worried about home.

He told Byleth that he couldn’t just forget the horrible things Dimitri had done, but he knew the man was trying.

In truth, he wasn’t sure Dimitri had done anything they hadn’t all done. But if he knew one thing, it was that Dimitri wanted to be treated how he felt he deserved.

Sylvain was angry Rodrigue’s death was hurting Felix, angry his last words weren’t for his son. Maybe he was being unfair.

* * *

“I’m grateful, but he shouldn’t have looked for me in the end. How is Felix?”

* * *

Okay, so maybe Sylvain just didn’t care about whatever Dimitri had or hadn’t done, forgiveness was there in one moment. Anybody who looked that worried and regretful over someone elses actions toward Felix? Good person. Sylvain was inviting him to the wedding. Hell, Sylvain was letting him officiate. “He’s pretending he’s fine.”

A sigh “He always has. Please, I wouldn’t be welcome, and you…by no means must do this for me. But hold him close, he deserves it.”

“Anything for you, Your Highness.”

* * *

Dimitri and Felix….seemed to forget years of animosity overnight. Dimitri and Felix had a heart to heart, Dimitri said Felix was just like his brother, Felix almost broke his nose, Dimitri laughed, reeled in a protesting Felix for a hug as he flailed like a wet cat.

“I choose you though. I would even if he was right here.”

Felix cried.

* * *

Dimitri cried when he was crowned.

Sylvain wore a purple ribbon, for healing and progress. He knew it wasn’t for Faerghus, or Dimitri. It was Felix becoming whole again, happy, with no downside, even in mourning.

When they encountered Claude, Felix was recovering from Rodrigue’s death, from his friends return. His ribbon was brown, for healing and home, even as they stood on foreign soil.

Claude looked sly, pulled Dimitri aside during the festivities in the Aquatic Capitol.

* * *

“Say, Felix?”

“What, Boar?” Felix asked, paging through a book Ashe had thrust into his hands. Dimitri flipping through an old book on battle tactics.

“When you and Sylvain are wed, do you plan to use the ribbon?”

He thought about it. “I…I think I’d like to.”

Dimitri smiled easier when Felix let himself be vulnerable. He smiled a lot now, even as the war hurtled to it’s end and he stopped sleeping. “What colors would you want?”

“I don’t actually know what they mean.”

Felix found himself sequestered in rooms with Dorothea, Dimitri, and Hilda from then on, learning which colors meant what, deciding which ones would suit Sylvain best.

* * *

“When you get married, what ribbons are you going to use?” Annette asked Sylvain out of the blue one day, one day right before Enbarr.

“I don’t know, I want them to suit him.”

Sylvain is cornered by Annette, Ingrid, and Petra.

He learns the meaning of plenty of colors, learns what he thinks Felix will like best. And starts slowly making notes. A page here or there in a journal. And before he knows it, he’s scribbling a half formed idea for a future wedding into a journal he’d jogged back to the tent for. And he leaves it in his bag as he grabs the length of gray ribbon from his bag. They’d almost forgotten.

* * *

It’s the first time they’ve done it in public, and the first time over their armor.

Felix is noticeably trying not to tremble, and Sylvain isn’t much better off. Lysithea approaches and very carefully helps them loop the gray ribbon over their armor and around. Leonie tugs knots into place. Hilda offers a silver ribbon, and they let them tie that too. Petra offers a green ribbon and they add that to the mix.

Overall, they’re probably a target now. But the army goes from restless to silent to all the tension of a celebration with none of the noise.

Erasing, returning to the universe without repercussion, inspiration, protection, luck, health, love.

Felix knew the meanings of a strip of fabric meant nothing. But all the same, he felt cloaked in them.

His faith is rewarded when a Mortal Savant looks to the glint of green on his arm and not his stance in the main hall. The Savant dies, Felix lives.

A swordsman swings at a silver ribbon instead of a lance suspecting a feint with a blade and an accomplice. Sylvain’s arm is well and truly broken, but he lives. The swordsman does not.

And then Dimitri is there, bleeding, holding Byleth’s hand, the green haired man fitting so naturally at the King’s side. Claude rushes the stairs to worry at them, pretense be damned. He looks good there too.

* * *

It takes a bit under two years for them to actually hammer out a wedding. Byleth and Dimitri offer them the castle, Sylvain accepts, because Felix deserves the grand gesture.

Lysithea offers to make cake, not even a sweet one. Felix accepts, provided it is sweet, because it would make Sylvain happy, and he deserves one of his favorite sweets. Lysithea agrees, but makes a small spiced cake for Felix in secret.

There are no diplomats, barring Almyra and Brigid. Claude, who technically rules this place too even if the nobles don’t know yet, Petra who rules Brigid. Nobles a plenty, and commoners. There are a few people Felix doesn’t know, but Raphael’s little sister and Hilda’s older brother and Ashe’s siblings are a family of a sort too, so he doesn’t mind. It’s big, yet small, a nice mix.

“What colors are you two using?”

The same question in two separate rooms.

“I….forgot to pick for me.”

The same answer in two separate rooms. 

Ingrid is exasperated and fond. “They’re perfect for each other. Honestly, forgetting your own contribution to your own wedding? Urgh, it worked perfectly, I hate them.”

“It’s quite romantic, in a way.” Dedue offers.

Hilda leaned against a wall and sighed “They’re so stupid it’s so cute.”

Felix presents red for passion, light blue for patience, pink for love and romance and happiness, because those are things Sylvain wants and deserves and if Felix can give them to him he will do it without a second thought.

Dimitri groans and pats him on the shoulder as Felix vibrates, all nervous energy as Mercedes and Annette care for his hair. “Forgive me, it’s perfect and I’m utterly enchanted with the thought, but you’re so intense about it! You make me wish I could-”

“Oh shut up and do it. You’re literally the King.”

“...That’s fair.”

Sylvain presents black for strength, wisdom, and pure love, white, for serenity and devotion, and gold for unity. Because they are all things Felix deserves and if Sylvain can give them to him he will do it without a second thought. 

Claude pats him on the shoulder and nods. “Well. You two definitely deserve each other. Knock ‘em dead out there.”

“So when am I going to get to gently mock you on your wedding day?” Sylvain snarks back.

“Whenever Dimitri asks me, so in about never months.”

Dorothea snorted, a surprisingly inelegant sound. “For a King you’re remarkably weak willed. Go for it on your own!”

Claude rolled his eyes “Yep, Dimitri has to ask me and Byleth has to realize I want to marry him. I’m resigning myself to an empty life of saving the world…Oh wait, I’m pretty damn cool.”

Bernadetta’s loyalty has always been to Byleth, who is alerted of this conversation immediately, and the Archbishop does indeed get the ball rolling six months later.

But for now, six ribbons are bound by friends around two soldiers standing in a mostly empty ballroom. Dorothea and Annette sing. Raphael pulls Ingrid onto the dancefloor and they don’t leave, Constance is convinced to dance with Ferdinand, and Yuri tries to spike a drink that has already been spiked by Ashe, Marianne and Lysithea giggle while Linhardt and Caspar bicker, Balthus and Petra chat while Hapi and Hilda plot. Ignatz dreams a new painting and relates it to Lorenz, and Leonie entertains Seteth and Flayn with a tale from her new company of mercenaries. Claude dreams of a future he can’t see, and Dimitri dreams of one he can, Byleth smiles, Manuela and Hanneman call him on it, and Felix and Sylvain end their bloodlines.


End file.
